


sing of the moon (as it sometimes gets shy)

by kaynary



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Smut, akeshu - Freeform, akeshu week 2019, give akechi rights, i just want my boys to be happy atlus, shuake, slight canon divergence but like. for a good reason, this is a MASSIVE fix it fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 15:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaynary/pseuds/kaynary
Summary: “It feels like I’ve been thanking you nonstop lately. First for saving my life, now for this.”or,if you think I believe for even ONE SECOND that Kurusu Akira left ANYONE behind in a palace to die with barely a word of parting........................................





	sing of the moon (as it sometimes gets shy)

**Author's Note:**

> ok before we jump in: i know P5 has it set like Akechi fight -> calling card -> Shido fight. I couldn’t figure out how to make that work so i’ve modified it slightly to be calling card -> Akechi fight -> Shido fight. yeah I know that would be ridiculous in-game but dwbi 
> 
> \----  
“Sing of the moon as it sometimes get shy  
Running from lovers through starry-eyed skies  
Morning comes quick bringing tragic goodbyes  
Nothing ever really dies, right?”  
\----

Akechi was a traitor all along. He knows that. Of course he knows that – he’s painfully aware of it.

It was hard to ignore the fact that had Akechi loved pancakes any less, chances were that it would be Akira’s actual corpse currently lying in the morgue.

No matter how he felt or what he thought about the so-called Detective Prince, the fact remained that his only goal was to take down the Phantom Thieves. All the help he had given them, all the friendly banter they had exchanged…all of it was a façade.

Akechi had gotten his comeuppance in the end. Shot by his own doppelganger; shut down by Shido, the man who he had tried so hard to kill.

He was a traitor.

Goro Akechi betrayed them. Betrayed the Phantom Thieves. Betrayed Joker.

Akira knows that.

So why do Akechi’s pained last words still echo in his mind? His ardent desperation in every word, ended with a heart-wrenching plea.

_Change Shido’s heart…in my stead. End his crimes! …please!_

Just because he sacrificed himself to save the rest of them in the end didn’t make him any less of a murderer, Joker argues with himself. He killed Futaba’s mother, Haru’s father, and almost Joker himself.

Akechi was a traitor and a killer. He deserved no pity.

So why does he feel such a gaping hole in his chest, right where his heart is?

Joker shakes his head subconsciously, as if he can dismiss the thought with a mere shake of his black curls. What was _wrong _with him?

“Joker.”

He’s pulled out of his musings by Morgana. The cat’s blue eyes are studying him intently. He looks around the table, and realizes everyone is staring at him worriedly.

“Sorry. I was…thinking.”

“We have to take Shido down _now._ The calling card’s effect only lasts for today. I know you’re probably tired, but—”

“I know,” he snaps, irritated. He knows how calling cards work. A flash of hurt crosses Morgana’s face, and Joker’s anger vaporizes. “I…I know. I’m sorry. Let’s do this.”

They leave the safe room, and make the final trip down the corridor to the center of the Palace.

He knows he needs to focus on this battle. Shido won’t go down easy.

But no matter what he tries to think about, his thoughts wander back to that gate. Akechi’s final sacrifice.

His trust in Joker.

No, he thinks. His trust in _Akira_.

That was precisely it, wasn’t it? The calculating, cold, Phantom Thief side of him – Joker – knew exactly what Akechi had done. It understood the atrocities Akechi had committed, and judged him unworthy of its sympathy.

But the other side – the kind, emotional, human side of him. Akira…Akira didn’t judge Akechi based on his sins or virtues. It judged him based on the boy _he _had known. A brilliant, beautiful person. He had genuinely been impressed by his quick thinking in Sae’s casino. Of all the Phantom Thieves, he had felt closest to Crow, thought it had been only for a brief time.

Though he loved all of his teammates, none of them were quite the same as Akechi. Akechi matched him perfectly, from his persona to his planning. He didn’t feel like he had to be the leader of the Phantom Thieves with Akechi; he didn’t feel responsible for his safety – he had been trusting him to make his own decisions, knowing he would be okay.

Before he can think on this further, they come up on the giant door.

“Well, Joker, this is it! Are we ready?” Ann does her best to sound chipper, but he can hear the anxiety hidden beneath. He gives her a single nod, and pushes open the massive doors.

They prevail against Shido with little difficulty. He’s incredibly strong, but even that is no match for their combined damage output and Morgana’s seemingly endless healing.

While Shido’s shadow loudly mourns the end of his accursed career, the Phantom Thieves take a minute to catch their breath. Joker feels absolutely exhausted, his power entirely sapped.

“All the cognitions will be safe, right? Even if they’re fused with the shadows of real people?” Haru asks quietly.

“Yes. The only person who will be affected will be Shido himself. The rest of them aren’t really here, so their real-world counterparts will be safe,” Morgana says. Haru nods, relieved.

Akira can’t stop himself from looking up at Morgana, impossible hope filling his heart.

“There is nothing you can do, Joker. He’s gone. It’s too late…” Morgana says softly, his wide blue eyes filled with sympathy, as his heart drops again. “He doesn’t have a shadow. That was the real him. I’m sorry, but he’s gone. He’s dead.”

“Well, he might not really be dead yet, I don’t think,” Futaba suddenly pipes up, and seven pairs of surprised eyes turn on her. She blushes, flustered for a second, before carrying on. “Once the gate came down, I definitely felt his signal drop, so all I could feel were a bunch of weaker signals. I assumed they were the shadows on the other side, but it’s impossible to tell.”

Just then, the ark gives a mighty rumble. Almost instantly, the ship begins to collapse, great pieces of it crumbling to dust as it begins to sink.

“What’s going on? We haven’t even taken the treasure yet! This is way too fast!” Ryuji’s voice cuts through the din of collapsing metal and rock.

“We have to go, now!”

Joker barely registers Makoto’s voice.

_He might not be too late. If Akechi is still alive, then…_

He runs instinctively, following his teammates as they sprint away from the collapsed Shadow Shido. They practically fly down the flights of stairs, but the ship is sinking too rapidly. By the time they reach the bottom, half of the corridor is already flooded.

“How are we going to get out? Half the place is in lockdown!” Makoto’s fear is evident in her tone, but Futaba shakes her head.

“The ship is collapsing; all the security’s been overridden! Our only threat is the water. Come on! This way!” Futaba shouts, tearing off down one of the hallways, Yusuke and Haru close behind.

Joker freezes. He recognizes this place. This is right where they were immediately after…

“Joker, come on! We have to go!” He distantly hears Ann shouting at him. He looks at her with wide eyes, only half-comprehending her words.

_He might not really be dead yet._

That one thought is enough to crush any rational counter-argument he might have formed. He can almost _hear _Joker scream in exasperation as stupid, sensitive, merciful Akira takes the reins.

“Go. I’ll meet up with you after. Run!”

He doesn’t wait for their reply, making a mad dash down the opposite hallway.

_“Joker!”_

He hears Ann’s voice ringing from somewhere behind him, but it’s too late. A giant pillar from the collapsing Palace has separated them, and he knows that their only choice to leave without him.

He lands somewhat unsteadily, taking a second to recalibrate his balance and analyze his surroundings. He remembers the location of the gate; god knows it’s all he’s been thinking about for that past several hours.

He avoids the falling debris with the grace of a cat, side-stepping the fading bodies of shadows and dodging random bits of the ship that threaten to crush him.

His heart is pounding by the time he reaches the engine room where the gate had come down. He scans the area; he can only hope that Akechi hasn’t been buried by the debris yet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the scarcely-familiar dark mask, and dives next to him. Joker’s shaking hands feel for a pulse.

A deep sense of relief washes over him like a wave and his anxiety vaporizes. The heartbeat is faint but unmistakable.

Joker scans Akechi’s body quickly. Just below his ribcage, a dark spot is blooming across his chest and abdomen. Even though his suit is dark, it’s obvious where the gunshot hit him.

“Diarahan,” he whispers, reaching deep inside to pull from the last dregs of his power.

Miraculously, the wound on Akechi’s body closes, leaving only his bloodstained clothes. Joker almost blacks out as he loses his balance for a split second, before he rights himself, breathing heavily.

He can’t lose it. Not now.

Kneeling down, he hoists Akechi into his arms, letting his head rest against his injured shoulder. Once he’s sure he’s as secure as he can be, he starts running. It’s not like Joker knows where he’s going – all he’s got is a vague idea of where the entrance to the Palace was.

There’s a deafening explosion somewhere to his right, and Joker cries out in pain as shrapnel pierces his side. He stumbles, almost spilling the unconscious detective from his arms.

All he can think of now is running. He’s not sure where - the entrance would’ve caved in by now.

He can feel the familiar wetness of blood to his side, but he has no energy left to heal himself with. There’s no Morgana, Makoto, or even Ann to save him this time.

Ahead is a giant glass window.

He thinks of Niijama’s Palace, and smiles. There’s a way out after all. Each pained step brings him closer, and he’s just about to jump through.

He almost makes it.

Another explosion goes off behind him, and the force propels him rather ungracefully through the glass pane, and he hits the glass with his head rather than his back as he had originally intended to.

As his forward momentum runs out, he realizes the dark waves are spiraling at a horrifying pace towards him. It doesn’t matter.

_Take me somewhere happy, _Akira prays to the Nav, just as the world goes dark.

+++++

Goro’s eyes fly open.

The sky is blue, and he can hear birds chirping. This isn’t right.

It’s definitely not Shido’s Palace – he’s surrounded by flora. He remembers dying – he knows he died. He shot himself who then shot him back – best not to think about it too much, he muses – and then he blacked out, separated from the Phantom Thieves with what may as well have been a impassable chasm.

That still didn’t answer the question. He wasn’t in Shido’s Palace; where, then? Heaven? The thought almost makes him laugh. To think Goro Akechi would ever be allowed into heaven.

He sits up, and takes in his surroundings. He’s in what looks like a rather dense jungle – it’s hot, too hot for what he’s wearing. He reaches up to take his mask off, only to find it missing already.

A quick glance down tells him all he needs to know – he’s dressed in his somewhat-bloodstained uniform, which means he’s definitely not in the Metaverse. He pulls up the suit jacket and dress shirt curiously – his skin is perfectly smooth, with barely a scar marring the place where the gunshot wound had been.

His brow furrows. Every new development only raises more questions. What happened to the wound? How did he get out of the palace? And most importantly, where was he?

He’s still pondering these questions when his eyes land directly on a body laying a few meters away from him, covered in dirt.

“Of course,” he says out loud, unable to stop the look of complete bemusement from crossing his face. He knows whose body it is even without seeing the face.

He knew he was always a sentimental fool – he just didn’t think he was _this _stupid. Being willing to protect your friends was one thing, endangering your life for the person who tried to kill you was another. The answer to all his questions lies next to him, face down in the mud.

What happened to the wound? A healing spell. Evidently had sapped the last of his strength, judging by the fact that he now lay motionless; unconscious, if not dead.

How did he get out of the palace? If they had succeeded in taking down Shido, the palace’s collapse would’ve likely triggered the emergency override, opening all the doors, even the gate. As hard as it was for Goro to comprehend, he could imagine him of all people going back to save someone his friends had left for dead.

Where was he now? Well…that was still undecided.

With a sigh, he gets up and walks over to the unconscious boy. He recognizes the familiar Shujin uniform and the curly black hair, and that’s all he needs to deduce his earlier assumptions were entirely correct. There’s blood seeping through the uniform, obvious even on the black fabric.

Goro kneels down on one knee, and rolls him none-too-gently onto his back.

There’s blood on the boy’s face, but it’s unmistakably Kurusu Akira. His face is pale and slightly bruised, but a quick pulse check tells Goro he’s still very much alive.

“What an idiot.” The words are out his mouth before he can stop them. Kurusu had saved him at the cost of his own wellbeing; what did he expect? Here, in the middle of the jungle, no one would find him. It would be days before they even discovered his body, and they would assume he died of starvation, or thirst, or wild animals.

For all the work him and his friends put into fooling the detective in the interrogation room, this was a stupid way to undo it all. Goro had told him, back in the palace. If they wanted him to stop getting in their way, they needed to kill him, to be rid of the true culprit.

Similarly, all Goro had to do was walk away, and he’d finally be rid of the Phantom Thief leader once and for all.

And yet, he couldn’t. Despite his mind’s commands, his feet felt like lead. For as quick and sure-footed as he was in the Metaverse, he could no more bring himself to walk away from Joker as he could fly.

Was he suddenly developing a conscience? Or did his near-death experience awaken a new appreciation for life? The thought is almost laughable. He had killed tens, if not hundreds of people without a second thought under Shido’s orders. What difference did one more life make?

_But it does make a difference_, the traitorous little voice in him piped up, _it’s not the life, but rather who it belongs to. _

He wasn’t under Shido’s orders now. He didn’t have to end Kurusu’s life anymore.

“Dammit!” he cries out suddenly, fisting his hands in his hair. What was _wrong _with him, having a moral dilemma for the first time in his life over the unconscious form of his greatest rival? Everything was easier before – he had his orders, all he did was carry them out, biding his time for the day he’d finally take his revenge on his father. If not revenge, what else did he have to live for?

_The best revenge is living well_, Goro thinks almost instantly, and he’s ready to go back into the Palace and make sure he stays dead there this time. He isn’t ever going to “live well” -- he doesn’t deserve it; he doesn’t deserve happiness. He deserved to _die_, so _why wouldn’t Joker let him?_

With a grunt, he kneels down again and lifts Joker into his arms. He’s surprisingly light.

He tells himself it’s only because he had helped him finally take revenge on his father.

He tells himself it’s for a selfish reason, because he might prove useful in the future.

He tells himself his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he imagines Joker risking his life in the Palace to save his.

**

The trudge through the jungle is long, and Akechi Goro has no idea where he’s going.

He stops to rest a few times, setting Kurusu down with a degree of care that surprises even him. Has he gone soft? Had a few kind words from the Phantom Thieves on what was essentially his deathbed erase the _years _of suffering he had undergone?

Of course not. He didn’t care what any of them said – good characteristics or bad, the fact remained that everything he had done in his life he had done for himself. Even now, Goro knows the reason he’s lugging Joker’s unconscious body through a humid, soul-sucking jungle is for himself. They had fought and nearly killed each other; if they survived this, his most hated rival would be at his mercy.

The stupid cat’s voice echoes in his ears. _You don’t really hate Joker, do you?_

Obviously he didn’t really hate Joker. The cat had said it as if it was something revelatory; an epiphany he had had during the fight. He had never hated Joker – he was jealous of him, sure, but there was never hatred towards him, not even after he found out that he was the head of the Phantom Thieves.

Though he would never admit it, he admired the man. He respected him; if things had gone differently, perhaps they could’ve been friends. Hanging out together in Leblanc’s effortlessly comfortable atmosphere; drinking coffee, playing chess, talking. Akira was more quick-witted than he appeared, and he had a sense of humor that was amusing without being obnoxious. It didn’t hurt that he was attractive; dark hair with bright smoke grey eyes that seemed to pierce through all of Goro’s walls when they focused on him.

He blinked. Well, it didn’t matter now. Things had _not _gone differently, and with their current dynamic Goro was genuinely surprised to even be alive. Truthfully, he had never imagined for a second that he was meaningful enough to Akira to even mourn, let alone to jump back into a collapsing Palace.

Then again, he had never really known the real Akira, had he? Sure, he had worked with Joker, but he had never known Kurusu, not like the other Phantom Thieves did.

He was interrupted from his musings by a sudden bang, and then far-off laughter.

Goro’s brow furrows before he pitches forward, picking up the pace. Every instinct in his body is screaming for him to be careful, but at this point, he doesn’t care. He’s been in this endless jungle with his unconscious rival for what feels like years, and he’s had enough of it. Whatever lies ahead is surely better than what’s behind.

As he gets closer and closer, he can hear children screaming, and something that sounds like running water.

Where the hell are they?

Goro breaks through the undergrowth, and stumbles to his feet, blinking in confusion at the deep blue expanse several meters in front of him, before he realizes he’s looking at the ocean.

His shoes are sinking into sand, and there are children running around in swimsuits.

With a start, Goro realizes he’s on a beach.

It only takes a few minutes for a woman with a concerned expression on her face to approach him. He turns to face her, but he can’t understand a word she’s saying. Did he hit his head? Is he so frazzled he forgot Japanese?

Just as soon as that thought crosses his mind, he realizes she’s speaking English.

Oh.

He shakes his head, and sounds out, in his broken English, that he doesn’t understand her. He never really had time to learn the language, between solving crimes, taking down targets in the Metaverse, and planning his elaborate revenge.

At this, she starts frantically gesturing between him and the unconscious boy in his arms, mouth still going at a mile a minute.

He realizes how it must look. A high school boy crashes through the jungle on the beach, dressed for winter in 30-degree weather, carrying a bloodstained body.

Goro shakes his head again, and puts on his best TV-worthy smile. He’s fine, he tries to tell her, but he’s not sure if she understands. He lets go of Joker with one arm, letting his legs drag in the sand as he holds two fingers against his pulse point. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he senses his pulse, strong as ever. He gestures at the woman to place her fingers there, to prove that no, he isn’t carrying a dead body out of the jungle.

She seems relieved and shuts up for a second, before she pulls her phone out of nowhere, dialing something. Goro’s foggy brain manages to comprehend what she’s doing just in time, and he fiercely shakes his head and grabs her hand.

“It’s okay - he’s fine, just injured from exploring the jungle,” he pieces together slowly, heart pounding in his chest. He can’t let her call an ambulance. If he’s taken to the hospital there’s no way he can explain why the two of them are soaked in blood, and what they were doing in the jungle. The absolute last thing Goro Akechi needs is to be arrested here and now.

Thankfully, she turns off her phone, albeit with a doubtful expression. He thanks her briefly, and quickly retreats back into the safety of the jungle. The less people that see him carrying what looks like a bloody corpse the better.

At length, he finally reaches true civilization. There are taller buildings in the distance with some smaller ones closer to him. Before he leaves the very fringe of the jungle, he sets Joker down, partly because his back hurts and partly because he needs to make himself look reasonably presentable before heading into a place with actual people in it.

He rips off his beige jacket, depositing it into the undergrowth. It’s ruined anyway on account of being covered in blood. His shirt seems to be reasonably clean, with a few spots of blood that could be passed off as dirt, so he rolls up his sleeves to his elbows to account for the heat. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair. Nothing to be done about that.

He turns his attention to Joker. He will be much harder to camouflage. He kneels down and unbuttons the Shujin Academy blazer.

There’s a huge bloodstain on his white shirt.

“Shit,” Goro curses under his breath. “Dammit, Kurusu, you just had to go and pass out, didn’t you?”

Well, there’s nothing to be done for it. He buttons the blazer back up, hoping the dark colour will be enough to stave off wandering eyes from looking too closely.

He sighs. He lifts Joker back to his feet, slinging Joker’s arm around his neck, and curling his own arm around his waist, as if he was simply piss-ass drunk.

He really hopes this works.

With a deep breath, he steps out onto the cobble, half-carrying, half-dragging Joker after him. He moves at a steady pace - not so fast to draw suspicion, but not so slow that he gets in people’s way.

Aside from a few cursory glances, it seems his plan is working. Some guy even lifts a bottle at him, grinning at him knowingly.

Finally, he sees the very picture of salvation. Right in front of him, in gleaming red letters.

**Marriott Hotel | Hawaii**

Goro frowns. Hawaii?! How did they end up in Hawaii?

Well, that’s a problem for later. His body is about to give out from dragging both himself and Joker for hours, not to mention the fact that the sun is setting. He pushes through the revolving door, and deposits Joker onto the armchairs stationed in the lobby, much to the disapproval of the receptionist.

In a raspy voice and disjointed English, he does his best to tell her he’d like to reserve a room. She watches him over her narrow glasses, her green eyes steely and cold as she barely glances at her computer and tells him that they have none available.

Goro forces down the tears that spring automatically to his eyes. He’s tired, dammit - he doesn’t know where else to go. All he wants to do is sleep.

Please, he tries again. Please. My friend — that boy on the armchair — is drunk and we really need a place to stay.

Her eyes widen suddenly, and she clicks at the computer before nodding that they do, in fact, have a single room on the fifth floor open. He barely hears her say the price when he’s already fumbling with his wallet.

She slides two keycards across the partition between them, and smiles warmly. Goro doesn’t understand what triggered her sudden mood change, and frankly, he doesn’t care. He’s just grateful they have a place for the night.

“Here’s your keycard. Room 1770, floor 5,” she says kindly. “Breakfast is complimentary from 6am to 9am.”

He thanks her profusely in broken English, before making his way back over to Kurusu. Exhaustion has hit him like a truck, and he can barely pick his way across the room.

Goro hoists him back onto his shoulder, his legs shaking with the effort. He forces himself to walk to the elevator and press the button. The receptionist is still watching him, but her expression is soft. He gives her a sorry excuse for an awkward smile, and she beams back at him.

“Forgive me. It’s very sweet how you’re taking care of your boyfriend when he’s drunk. I wish mine would do that for me.” She laughs then, and Goro laughs with her, not really comprehending her words.

Mercifully, the elevator dings, and he drags them both into it. The doors shut, and the next thing Goro knows is that he’s forcing his keycard into the slot.

He collapses onto the freshly made bed, dropping Joker right next to him. Kurusu’s head lolls to the side, and Goro glares at his closed eyes.

“Fuck you. Fuck you, Joker,” he snarls suddenly, in a moment of anger, before exhaustion overwhelms him again.

Try as he might, he can’t keep his eyes open, and sleep washes over him.

++++

Goro’s eyes fly open at 3am.

“Boyfriend…?!”

He sits up, breathing heavily. He blinks in the darkness, the moonlight doing its best to poke through the thick curtains on the window.

What the hell had he said that made her think _that_?! He mentally runs through the conversation. Reserve a room…my friend and I…my friend…that boy there –

He has to physically restrain himself from slapping his forehead. Damn English. He hadn’t processed it at the time, in his desperate, disoriented state. Instead of telling her that his friend was the boy in the armchair, he had somehow managed to tell her that his boyfriend was in the armchair.

Thank god Joker was still out. He would’ve tormented him to the end of his days.

He stretches and slides off the bed. Sure, he had blundered through a rather simple exchange, but it was only after that that she offered him a room. In a way, his blunder had secured them a place to stay, he rationalizes to himself.

Goro turns on the lights on either side of the bed, casting a warm glow over the white sheets of the bed. He looks over at Joker, and a feeling of horror pools in his gut as his eyes settle on the deep red stain next to him.

He had completely forgotten Joker’s injury. Hands shaking with sudden panic, his fingers reach for the slender neck, seeking out the pulse point. His heart rate calms as he feels the reassuring beat of life, steady as ever.

With some difficulty, he pulls off the Shujin Academy blazer, his fingers just barely grazing the skin as he unbuttons the stained dress shirt at last.

Goro examines the wound on the side of his waist with a critical eye. It doesn’t look fatal, at the very least. That ridiculous Phantom Thief get-up was good for something after all.

He retrieves the first aid kit from the bathroom, cleaning the gash with water and antiseptic ointment. The very last thing he needs is for Joker to die from an infected wound from the Metaverse.

Absentmindedly, he runs his fingers down the exposed skin as he works. Joker is more toned that he gave him credit for. His skin is pale, but he’s in excellent shape. He supposes running around in Palaces would do that.

He bandages the wound with gauze, then steps back to admire his handiwork. Joker’s strong; he will survive.

Goro is sure of it. He has to be.

His eyes travel to Joker’s face. His glasses are still almost comically askew on his face, so Akechi does him the favor of taking them off and putting them on the nightstand.

Akira really is surprisingly beautiful. Beneath Joker’s mask, beneath his own glasses, beneath that mop of black hair which is always falling into his face, Akira Kurusu is attractive. It’s more than Joker’s frankly intoxicating aura of confidence and poise; the boy himself has a certain charm that captured Goro’s heart almost instantly, much to his endless chagrin.

He would never admit it in his normal state, not even to himself. If he had even a scrap of his wits about him, he would’ve left the room a long time ago and vanished into the night, and hope that Akira forgot all about him.

Instead, he flicks the light off, and drops onto the bed again, too tired to care about the fact that he’s sleeping next to someone who was once his rival.

**

Akira’s eyes flicker open in the bright morning, sunlight streaming in through the blinds. He looks around at the pale beige walls, and it suddenly occurs to him that this is not, in fact, Leblanc.

As his brain finally kickstarts into action, he remembers the events of yesterday. The battle against the detective, _losing Akechi_, defeating Shido, and then…then, his desperate sprint through a sinking ark to save a boy who might’ve already been dead.

He remembers the crippling pain in his side, the feeling of glass shattering against his head as he was ungracefully thrown clear of the collapsing Palace. A final prayer to the Nav…

He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, holding a hand in front of his face and forcing himself to focus on the slender digits as he flexes and straightens them. Well, at least he’s alive.

He looks up over the pristine white blanket.

He’s in what looks like a hotel room, in a bed that seems massive compared to the one in Leblanc. But he isn’t alone.

Nestled among the covers and pillows is Goro Akechi.

Akira’s heart slows, and he can feel the tension leave his shoulders. They made it out after all. He can see the steady rise and fall of Akechi’s chest as he breathes, seemingly in deep sleep.

Instinctively, he reaches over and brushes the long locks out of his face. A small smile spreads across his face, unbidden. He was alive. Akechi was alive.

Akechi was alive.

He had known from the very beginning that he needed to save him. Even before he found out Akechi’s true intentions, he had known he would do anything to save him.

And though he had thought, back then, that it was because it was part of his mission to save his friends from the horrors inflicted upon them by adults. Helping both Ryuji and Ann free themselves from Kamoshida, inspiring Yusuke and Makoto to break free of the stifling influences in their lives, and revealing the lies that tormented Futaba and Haru.

But Akechi…was different. Sure, they could defeat Shido. But that wouldn’t save him. Not really. He was too far gone, too driven by revenge to see reason if they took down his father.

Akira had needed to save Akechi from himself.

And it wasn’t until Akechi sacrificed himself for them, entrusting his goals to those he had viewed as his rivals for so long, that Akira knew. Akira knew that he had finally broken free of that which had tormented him his entire life.

Akechi didn’t have to be one or the other. He was both. His personas were proof enough of that. Robin Hood and Loki had their own unique characteristics. Loki was the cunning, scheming side of him: stacking the deck in his own favor. Robin Hood was the brilliant, gentle boy with a powerful sense of justice.

Akechi stirs, trying to bury deeper into the covers. Finding that impossible, Akira watches him slowly wake, stretching like a cat as he blearily opens his eyes, taking in his surroundings.

His gaze lands on Akira, and his face moves from sleepy to wide awake almost instantly, and he gives a small cry of surprise.

“Do you often watch people sleep?!” His voice is indignant; his brow furrowed.

“No, just you.” Akira teases, and rolls over to dodge the pillow Akechi throws at his head. “Good morning.”

“Um…morning,” he replies, somewhat awkwardly. He glances away from Akira, and pulls up the covers all the way to his chin, even though he’s fully clothed. “I…I hope you don’t mind…the…uh, the bed situation. It was just…just the only thing…they had available,” he finishes lamely, a soft pink blush beginning to spread on his face. He thinks it’s cute; he likes watching the confident “Detective Prince” reveal this…unsure side of him.

Akira is suddenly eager to diffuse the building tension between them.

“It’s fine. It’s okay. Really. I mean, I don’t know what happened, but we’re alive and not in Shido’s Palace.”

Akechi shoots him a withering glare. “You were passed out for a day. The Nav dropped us in the middle of _nowhere_, and I had to drag you along for hours.”

Akira’s eyes widen. _Nowhere? Dragged?_

“We’re…”

Akechi huffs. “Not in Japan. We’re in _Hawaii_, of all places. How and why we’re here is beyond me, I’m afraid.”

Akira blinks, trying to remember what had happened before he passed out. He had found Akechi, passed out on the floor where they had left him, his cognitive form lifeless beside him.

Sprinting through the palace carrying Akechi, seeing the window, a sharp stab of pain—

Akira’s hand flies to his side, and he feels for the wound he knows is there. His fingers brush against something that feels like fabric wrapped against his skin, and a shiver runs down his spine as he comes to the realization that his bare skin is exposed to the air.

“…Any particular reason I’m shirtless?”

Akechi flushes and stutters something about wounds, infections, and the Metaverse. Akira suppresses the urge to laugh. For as witty and put-together as the detective usually is, it’s amusing to watch him trip and fall over his own words in a panic to explain himself.

“I wanted to save myself the trouble of explaining your dead body. That’s it.” Akechi finally manages to pull together. “If I knew that you’d—”

“Akechi.” He breaks off mid-sentence, his red eyes flickering to meet Akira’s. “It’s okay. I understand. Thank you. If it weren’t for you, I would probably be dead right now.”

Akechi’s gaze drops as releases his tight hold on the covers, opting instead to pick at the loose threads.

“No, it is I who should be thanking you. I accepted that…that I would die there. In the Palace.” He hesitates, deciding whether to continue. “But I…I don’t understand why. Why did you come back for me? You and I were alone when I awoke. You clearly split off from your group, and the fact that you were injured and unconscious means it was far too close for comfort. So, I ask you, why? Why come back for me?”

_Astute as always_, Akira thinks. The half-formed explanation of “oh, we just happened to be passing through the room you almost died in” dissipates, and he sighs. He knows the only way to satisfy him is to tell him the truth, but Akira doesn’t really know the truth himself.

“I couldn’t leave anyone behind,” is what he finally settles on. That’s true enough, he supposes. It’s a weak explanation at best, and does little in the way of actually answering the question, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

He couldn’t very well tell him that he didn’t realize how important Akechi was to him until he was gone, and how he would’ve done anything to bring him back.

Sure, it wasn’t like he was his best friend like Ryuji, or a guide/mentor like Morgana, or even really one of the Phantom Thieves. No one trusted him, not really – of all the Phantom Thieves that could’ve sacrificed themselves, as heavy as it makes his heart, he knows that Akechi is the one that will be missed the least.

Akechi looks like he wants to say something else, but he simply closes his mouth and shakes his head.

“I see.”

A beat.

“That still doesn’t explain why we’re in Hawaii.”

Ah. Right. That.

He thinks back once more. The last thing he remembers is hitting the window head-on and freefalling towards the water.

No, wait. That isn’t the last thing he remembers. His phone had been out of reach on account of both his arms being occupied, but the Nav had still reacted. Reacted to his words.

“Hang on…I think…wait.” Akira subconsciously shakes his head, as if that’ll make the memories clearer. “I think…I remember thinking…something. Just before I blacked out. I thought I – we – were dead there on the ship. We were too far away from the entrance…I had to improvise. I jumped through a window straight into the water. I just remember asking the Nav to take me somewhere happy. Where I had happy memories. I think. I’m not sure, honestly…”

Akechi is watching him with his eyebrows furrowed, skepticism writ clear across his face. “I’ve never heard of the Nav reacting to someone’s thoughts.”

Akira shrugs. His eyelids are inexorably heavy, and his tongue feels heavy and thick in his mouth.

“I don’t know. Last time we were here…it was nice. Me, Yusuke, Ann, Ryuji. It was…it…” His strength abandons him entirely, and he lets his head fall back against the pillow as sleep pulls him under once more.

++++

When Akira wakes up again, Akechi is dressed differently.

A pleasant smell is filling the room.

“Good morning,” Akechi says curtly. “I assumed you would be hungry.”

Akira blinks and reaches for his glasses. He slides them onto his face carefully.

“You’re…cooking?”

Akechi huffs. “Of course I’m cooking. You’re hardly in any shape to be in the kitchen.”

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Come and eat. Consider this payment for all the times you made me coffee.”

Akira swings his legs off the bed. His muscles feel weak, but his legs miraculously hold when he tentatively places his weight on them.

“Leblanc feels so far away now.”

“Of course. It’s all the way across the Pacific Ocean.”

“That’s not what I—” he starts, before he realizes that Akechi’s eyes are glinting with slight amusement. “Oh. You’re...I see. Very funny.”

“I_ am _known for my excellent sense of humor.”

Akira sits down at the bar, and Akechi places a plate of pancakes down in front of him. Akira suddenly chortles, unable to keep from laughing at the sheer irony of it all. It had barely been a month since Akechi shot a cognitive Akira in cold blood, and here he was serving him pancakes.

Akechi quirks an eyebrow, and Akira just shakes his head. The former detective slides into the seat opposite to him and starts eating.

“So…what’s the plan?” Akira asks when they’re both done.

“The plan?”

“How are we…uh…going to get home?”

Akechi blinks, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“I doubt we can use the Metaverse, considering the last I remember of Shido’s palace is that it was _exploding_. If we’re in Hawaii…”

“We’ll just take a plane home,” Akechi says nonchalantly, as if he was telling him to take the bus home from the academy.

“A plane? I’m sorry, you expect us to _fly _home?”

“I don’t see many other options available to us, Joker.”

Akira blinks. He didn’t expect to be called by his Phantom Thief moniker here. He had figured they had been through enough in the last 24 hours that they were at least on a last-name basis.

“Kurusu is fine, you know. Or…or Akira. You don’t have to call me Joker when we’re not in the Metaverse.”

Something unidentifiable flashes across Akechi’s face.

“V-very well.” He clears his throat. “You can call me whatever you like, Kurusu Akira.”

Well played, Akira thinks. Using his full name – absolutely noncommittal. Fair enough.

“At any rate,” Akechi continues, his expression back to neutral. “I’ve booked plane tickets for tonight. Travelling at night will be safer.”

Akira’s sleep-fogged brain tries to process why on earth travelling at night would be in any way safer. At length, Akechi seems to take pity on him, and continues.

“We’re less likely to recognized.”

Akira gives up on trying to puzzle it out, and just stares at him expectantly.

“We’re…we’re supposed to be dead, Kurusu. How do you propose we explain why our ghosts are in Hawaii?”

“Oh. I see,” Akira says, not really seeing at all. Akechi only rolls his eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Kurusu. You clearly need it.”

Akira’s too tired to argue.

++++

It’s evening when Akechi wakes him up.

Akira’s brain finally seems to have restarted properly, if his coherent thoughts are anything to go by. They walk in comfortable silence to the airport, enjoying the warm tropical air.

He had forgotten about all the happy memories he had here. They enter through the doors to the airport and check in.

Somehow, it’s still busy even at 10pm. Everything goes smoothly.

That is, until a girl suddenly freezes in front of them, her mouth dropping open.

“Akechi-kun? Is that you? What are you doing in Hawaii?”

Akechi’s eyes widen in shock and fear, and he seems at a loss for words.

Before he can respond, Akira grabs Akechi’s hand and drags him through the crowds into the men’s bathroom, ignoring the other’s small cry of surprise and the girl’s cry of “Akechi-kun! Wait!”.

He lets go once he’s sure they’re out of view, freeing Akechi to pace around the narrow bathroom and mutter to himself.

“This could complicate things,” the detective worries. “I didn’t count on being recognized this far away from Japan.”

“Not my fault you’ve got a superstar status,” Akira sniffs.

“We’re in Hawaii in the middle of the night! How was I supposed to know I’d run into someone? At any rate, this won’t do. We can’t be recognized.”

“Hang on. I’ve got an idea.”

“Hey!” Akechi struggles, but Akira has the advantage of surprise. He runs his hands through the other’s surprisingly soft hair, mussing it into a passable imitation of his own style. “What are you—”

“Perfect.”

Akechi breaks free, running his own hands through his hair in horror. “What have you _done_—”

Akira takes advantage of Akechi’s impending mental breakdown to shove his glasses on the other’s face. He stumbles back in confusion, squinting, before his eyes widen again.

“These are…these are fake?”

Akira nods. Akechi lets his hands drop as he inspects himself in the mirror, before he glances back at Akira. He looks rather cute like this, Akira thinks. The glasses and messy hairstyle suit him well. Then again, almost anything suits him well.

“Are you sure this will work?”

Another nod. “Of course. If anyone’s looking, people are looking for your long hair and red eyes. No one will look twice at someone with a rat’s nest for hair and glasses.”

“I…guess that’s fair.” Akechi casts one more somewhat-horrified look at himself in the mirror. “Let’s go catch our flight.”

++++

The plane trip back is uneventful, and they arrive at the airport in the morning. It’s far too busy for anyone to even attempt to take a closer look at them, and they’re well-disguised enough that no one seems to care.

Akira can be surprisingly brilliant when he wants to be. He was right. If they didn’t appear exactly how people were used to them, they weren’t likely to look any closer. He’s little ashamed he didn’t think of that first.

They take a taxi, with Akechi covering the cost for both of them once again. They get off in the residential area of Yongen-Jaya, and stand in the setting sun.

Goro holds the glasses out for Akira to take, and he slides them into his pocket, clearly preoccupied.

“Where will you go?” Akira asks unceremoniously.

He’s subconsciously carding his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it back into some semblance of his usual style.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably rent a room for tonight and figure it out tomorrow.” He already knows what Akira is going to say, and he’s already made up his mind.

Just as predicted, Akira fixes him with his grey gaze and launches into the expected tangent.

“Come with me, Akechi. Come on. Where else are you going to go? You’re supposed to be dead. If you come back with me—”

“No,” Goro cuts him off softly, and offers him a gentle smile when he sees Kurusu’s face fall slightly. “Trust me, Kuru—Akira. They’re not going to want to see me. Not now, not ever. They’re your friends, and I’m the one who tried to kill you. I fear they’ll finish what Shido started if I walk into Leblanc.”

Akira opens his mouth, but Akechi he knows there’s nothing he can say.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Really. It’s time for you to go home to your friends and family. I will be fine.”

Akira looks like he still wants to argue, but instead he just hangs his head. Akechi’s hands reach for Akira’s of their own accord, and he holds the slender digits in his own.

“Thank you again for saving me, Akira. I will be fine.”

Akira looks down in mild surprise at their hands, before glancing back up at Akechi.

“Okay. But promise me that…if anything happens, you’ll come find me.” Akechi opens his mouth, but Akira shakes his head, barreling onwards. “Anything. Okay? Promise me.”

“I…I promise.”

“Okay. Okay.” He draws his hands back, and Akechi mourns the loss of physical contact, if only for a moment. “I’ll…I’ll see you around, then.”

“Goodbye.”

With that, Akechi turns on his heel and strides away, back straight and head held high.

He doesn’t look back.

He can’t let Akira see the tears threatening to fall.

++++

Akechi checks into a hotel just before nightfall. At least all the interviews he did have come in handy for something – he has enough to afford all these rather expensive nightly stays. He tries not to think about what he’s going to do when the money runs out.

He sits on the pristine white sheets, looking out onto the quiet streets below him. He had forgotten how quiet Yongen-Jaya was, in comparison to Shibuya or even one of the neighborhoods he had walked often walked through to calm his rampant thoughts on his worst days.

His stomach grumbles and he checks the time. It’s late, but he hasn’t eaten in almost a day. He needs to buy _something _at least.

Akechi gets up with a sigh, and almost turns to ask Akira if he wants anything before he remembers.

Gods, when had he started thinking of him as _Akira_? They had lived together for a day, and the entirety of it had been purely out of necessity.

Still, he couldn’t deny it was awfully comforting to have someone else in his life, if only for a short period of time. Living with Akira – Kurusu, Joker, whatever – felt…safe. Like he finally belonged somewhere, if only for a while.

Goro shakes his head and almost laughs at the thought. Akira had his friends and family. He had no need for someone like him. Besides, it’s not like Goro’s ever had trouble being on his own before.

He crosses the room towards the door, and tries to pretend his hand isn’t shaking when he reaches for the handle.

++++

Akechi wraps his shopping trip up fairly quickly, if only because the clerk is glaring at him for the entirety of the time he spends in the store. He buys enough for a couple days, and steps out into the cool night air.

He doesn’t know Yongen-Jaya very well, and it takes him longer than it probably should have to get home.

He’s on the street just before his hotel when things take a turn for the worse.

“Freeze.”

A man steps out of the shadows. Dimly, Akechi can make out the silhouettes of a few others hovering just behind him.

“What do you want?” His voice is steady. He’s no stranger to having threats thrown at him, and this is no different.

“You can’t be allowed to continue, boy. Best come quietly.”

Akechi squares his shoulders and stands up straight.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re Shido’s boy. You did all his dirty work for him,” the man in front sneers. “Well, Shido’s reign is over now.”

He clenches his fists. “And?”

“And…” Two of the man’s bodyguards step forward. “It might be over for him, but it isn’t for us. You know all about the Metaverse and the Phantom Thieves. You’re simply too dangerous, Goro Akechi. You must be stopped.”

Akechi’s been in too many fights to not know where this is going. Rather than give them the chance to attack first, he drops the bags he’s holding and rushes at the closest bodyguard. He knows it’s enough to buy him a few seconds, as no one in their right mind would charge someone with a gun. Good thing he isn’t.

He crashes headlong into the bodyguard, fingers closing on the barrel of the gun as he aims it away from his body as best he can.

“Shoot him, you imbeciles!” There’s a gunshot, and then he feels the sickening wetness of blood. A grunt of pain echoes above him, and he realizes he wasn’t the one hit. He shoves the man away and breaks through their line, making a blind dash for any sort of cover.

He dodges into another alley just as more gunshots ring out behind him. He doesn’t stop running until the shouts and threats are far behind him.

Goro dives behind a dumpster and slides to the ground against it, breathing heavily.

He can’t go back to his hotel. If they found him that fast…it could only mean they knew where he was staying, and where he went.

Had they been watching him? No, that was impossible. He would’ve noticed. Or Akira would have. Either way, there was no way any of Shido’s goons would’ve been able to sneak around two Phantom Thieves unnoticed.

He runs a hand through his hair nervously and thinks of what to do next. It’s too dangerous for him to travel alone. There’s nowhere he can go.

_Promise me that…if anything happens, you’ll come find me._

Akira’s words echo in his mind. He can’t go back there. He can’t darken Akira’s doorstep with his presence _again_.

_Akira doesn’t want you around. _

But if he didn’t, then why did he offer? Moreover, why did he save him in the Palace to begin with? If anything, he’d probably be angry if Akechi got himself killed after he went through all that trouble.

He gets back up on his feet, and checks to see if the coast is clear.

For as lost as he was trying to get back to his apartment, he knows exactly where he’s going now.

++++

Akechi looks up at the sign, glowing faintly in the darkness. The CLOSED sign is hung on the door: the curtains are pulled shut.

He’s got to be out of his goddamn mind.

He takes a deep breath, and opens the door before he can falter.

“Sorry, we’re closed—” the man at the bar starts, before he looks up and recognizes the boy in front of him.

“You! How dare you show your face here!” Sojiro’s eyes are dark, his face contorted in rage. “Get out. Get out, right now. Out.”

Akechi quails beneath the man’s fury, his voice dying in his throat, and his hand reaches back for the doorknob. His fingers just barely close around it when a familiar voice stops him short.

“Wait, Sojiro! Wait. Akechi, hold on.”

An overwhelming sense of relief washes over Akechi as he watches Akira practically jump down the last few steps between the attic and the café. He’s never been so happy to see someone. It hasn’t even been that long, but it feels like an eternity.

“Akira? You want me to let this…this _scum_ in? He tried to kill you, kid—”

“I know. I know,” The dark-haired boy cuts him off, crossing the store to reach the former detective. “I told him to come here if he needed anything. He wouldn’t have…he wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.”

“Akira…” his voice comes out scratchy and high, almost like a whimper. It’s pathetic, he thinks, but the thought vanishes as soon as Akira is close enough for him to reach because he practically collapses onto him, hiding his face in the collar of the other’s shirt. Akira stumbles back a step, before regaining his balance and pulling Akechi closer.

“Akechi…” his voice is soft, until his hand brushes over a dark red patch on his jacket, and he pushes him away slightly, eyes wide as he inspects the stain. “God, what happened?! Are you bleeding?”

“No…no, it’s not…mine…”

“Who has he killed this time, I wonder…” Sojiro’s voice cuts deeper than a knife, and he weakly starts to offer a half-hearted defense when Akira shoots a withering glare at Sojiro.

“Sojiro, please! Not now.”

The man grumbles something and goes back to scrubbing at the counter. Akira helps him into a chair, and sits down opposite.

“They…they attacked me. I…was returning home and they stopped me in an alley. I don’t know how they found me. I don’t know how they know I’m alive.”

“Who? Akechi, who?”

“I think…they used to work for Shido. They knew about the Metaverse. They knew what I’d been doing for Shido in there. They’re trying to destroy evidence. It seems that the change of heart worked – they seemed worried about him exposing the whole operation. It’s why…it’s why they tried to kill me. One of them shot the other by accident…that’s the blood. I ran. I just ran.”

“You really believe this drivel?” Sojiro’s voice comes from behind the counter again. Akechi knows that Sojiro has more reason than most to hate him, but he can’t pretend each word isn’t like a lance laced with venom.

“I do,” Akira’s voice is steady. “I do.”

He turns back to Goro. “Go upstairs. Sleep in my room tonight. I’ll take the couch.”

++++

Akira sighs, his fingers curling around the mug for warmth and comfort. Sojiro’s watching him with an unreadable expression.

“I know he’s dangerous, Sojiro. I…I know what he’s done. But…all the same, I don’t think he’s a bad person. Not really. He…I asked him to come home with me. After we got back. He refused. He had nowhere to go, and he refused anyway. He knows all too well how everyone feels about him. He could’ve _died_ and no one would’ve known. I’m…I’m all he’s got left. I…I won’t leave him.”

Sojiro sighs.

“You’ve got it bad, kid. Still, it looks like nothing I can say can change your mind. I can’t say I feel good about harboring Wakaba’s killer in my attic, though.”

Akira sits up straighter. “He wasn’t Futaba’s mother’s killer. _Shido_ was behind all of it. He…he made terrible decisions, but Shido destroyed the only family he had. We make bad decisions when we’re scared, angry, or lost,” he pauses, and looks up to meet Sojiro’s eyes. “You know that better than anyone. Wakaba…Wakaba is gone. Shido will be locked up in due time. But Akechi…Akechi’s still here. He’s still young. I…I have to protect him.”

Sojiro’s eyes are wide behind his glasses. There’s silence for a few seconds, before he exhales and gives him a small smile.

“Looks like maybe you kids know more than us after all, huh? I can’t say I like it, but even a blind man could see how much he means to you. You’re…you’re a good kid, Akira. Maybe too good. But maybe you’re onto something here. Either way, it doesn’t seem like I can stop you.” He lifts his hands in surrender. “Fine. He can stay for as long as he needs to.”

Akira smiles tiredly. “Thank you, Sojiro.”

Sojiro waves him off with a hand. “Finish your drink, and off to bed with you. It’s late enough as is, and I gotta get home to Futaba.”

++++

“Akira.”

The detective is still awake when he comes upstairs, perched on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest. He looks small and vulnerable, and Akira just wants to give him a hug.

“You’re still awake? I thought—”

“I know.” Akechi sighs, and unfolds himself, settling for crossing his arms instead. “But I…I just wanted to thank you. For everything.”

“It’s not—”

“It feels like I’ve been thanking you nonstop lately. First for saving my life, now for this.”

Akira says nothing, instead opting to sit next to him on the bed, with just a foot of distance between them.

They need to talk about what happened in the Metaverse. Akechi knows this. Akira pretends not to know this. Maybe if he can put it off long enough, it’ll just vanish altogether.

And of course, he chooses that exact moment to start the conversation Akira has been avoiding.

“The truth is…I never believed I deserved to be saved. To get a second chance.” Akechi’s voice cracks slightly, but he soldiers on. “That’s…that’s why I thought I hated you. You had your friends. Society turned against you but you…you never turned your back on it. You fought to protect people who would see you locked up. You were so good, so kind…in a way I could never be.”

Akechi sighs and looks away. “And you knew. All along, you knew I was one of them. That I would betray you. You knew. And yet…and yet you still tried to save me. You tried to save _me._ No matter how many times I pushed you away, you would reach out for me, again and again. It made me so, _so_ angry. How dare you think that you can _save _me?”

He looks up, his crimson eyes angry. For a second, he looks just like he did there in the engine room. “It felt _good_ to hear you scream. To hear you cry out through that metal gate, knowing it was _too late._ To know that you _failed_ to save me. It felt good knowing I was right. Knowing I was beyond redemption.”

Akira doesn’t move, regarding him with the same steady cool gaze, like he watches Shadows when they beg for their lives.

Just as suddenly as it came on, the psychotic darkness in his eyes vanishes, and he looks even more vulnerable than before.

“But knowing…knowing you came back for me, despite everything…you chose to come back and save me. And…loathe as I am to admit it, you succeeded. You pulled me from that accursed place, almost at the cost of your own life. And…I’ve come to realize something else.”

Akira’s heartrate speeds up of its own accord, and he tries not to let it show on his face. Could he be…?

He looks up, and a soft smile plays on his lips.

“I’ve realized I…I’ve never hated you. Not really. I feel…I feel good when I’m with you. And not in the sick, twisted way I feel with Loki. I feel…I feel like there’s hope. Like I have something to live for. Like…like I’m in love with you.”

Akira forgets how to breathe for a second, his breath catching in his throat as his heart skips several beats. Cool, confident Joker is gone, leaving a stuttering teenager.

“Akechi—”

Akechi flushes suddenly as he realizes the words that just passed his lips.

“I’m sorry. Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry. I didn’t –”

Akira reaches out and catches his wrist, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“It’s okay. Ake – Goro, it’s okay.” He offers him a tentative smile, as if his heart isn’t about to jump out of his chest. “You asked me why I came back for you. The truth is, I didn’t know at the time. I just know that since the moment I met you, I knew I wanted to save you. I wanted you to join us. To see that your life doesn’t have to end because of wicked adults. The more I tried to reach out to you, the further you pulled away. And yet…and yet, I couldn’t stop…”

Akira’s voice breaks, and he has to take a moment to compose himself. Akechi’s still watching him, deep red eyes blown wide and searching.

“After the gate fell, I couldn’t stop thinking about…about you. About how I failed you in the end. How I let you die. I didn’t…I didn’t realize just how much you meant to me until you were gone. I would’ve given anything for another chance. When I realized you might still be alive…I stopped thinking. I knew I had to try to save you one last time, no matter the cost. Because…because I love you too, Goro.”

The detective’s breath hitches, and he realizes he can see the specks of copper in his irises.

When had they gotten so close?

“Akira…I…”

Akechi’s eyelids flutter shut as Akira closes the last few inches between them, pressing his lips against his in a gentle kiss.

They stay like that for a few seconds, before Akira gently pushes Akechi onto the bed, climbing on top of him. He can feel the detective’s hands slide down to his waist, gripping him tightly.

“Akechi...let me...” His voice comes out softer than expected, just breaths of air between kisses. “Please...”

Akechi’s deep red eyes open, and he can almost _see_ the internal conflict in them.

Goro’s breathing quickens. He looks up into Akira’s face, searching for some hint of deception. Joker reads people better than most people read books. Does he know that this is exactly what Akechi wanted; to be vulnerable and open? Is this all part of his plan to finally, finally get his revenge on the boy that tried to kill him?

Then Akira leans in again, pressing another feather-soft kiss to Goro’s lips, and his worry suddenly doesn’t seem all that relevant.

“Okay,” he whispers back, and Akira instantly lifts his upper body off of him, sitting back so he’s balanced just over his hips. He reaches forward towards his neck, and Goro instinctively stiffens.

Akira frowns. Goro can feel his long, slender fingers on his throat as he unbuttons the top of his shirt, letting his hand linger there as he gauges Akechi’s reaction.

At length, Akechi nods, and Akira’s fingers continue their swift descent down, until his shirt is fully open. Akira hesitates for a second, before leaning back down for a kiss.

Akechi reciprocates, until he feels Akira’s mouth gradually travel lower: the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, and then his lips touch his neck.

Unbidden, a soft moan escapes him as he leans his head back to give Akira better access. This only serves to encourage the other boy, and he bites at a spot between Akechi’s collarbone and neck, prompting him to mewl and fist the sheets. He can feel his cock harden, straining against the material of his pants. He hasn’t gotten himself off in a while, and he hasn’t had sex in even longer.

“Kurusu...just...”

Akira pulls away from his neck and levels him with a calm grey gaze.

“Just what?”

That bastard. He’s going to make him say it. Their earlier, tender mood has vanished like mist in the morning sun. Fine. Akechi won’t back down from Joker; not in battle, not in bed.

“Fuck me.”

Akira’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, and Akechi feels a surge of smugness. _Your move, you cocky bastard._

Akira, to his credit, recovers quickly, and his momentary surprise is once again replaced with Joker’s cool confidence.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, without so much of a hint of embarrassment, sliding off the bed to give him space. Akechi shoots him a withering glare, before unbuttoning the top button and slipping his thumbs into his pants. Akira just...watches as Akechi wiggles out of his skinny jeans.

Akechi does his best to stare him down in nothing but his boxers. He doubts it works.

“Come then, Kurusu. Surely you don’t expect me to do all the work?”

Akira doesn’t reply, instead opting to strip down to his underwear, before climbing back over Akechi. The position is naturally dominant, and it’s all Akechi can do to look him in the eyes steadily.

“You act so high and mighty, don’t you?” Akira drawls, his fingers sliding into Akechi’s boxers, closer and closer to his cock. “The ace detective, too good for anybody but himself.”

Akechi opens his mouth to respond with a scathing comment, but the remark turns into a low groan as Akira chooses that exact moment to wrap his hand around Akechi’s cock.

“That’s it, good boy...let go. Let go for me.”

Akechi’s head snaps to the side as he squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to give Joker the satisfaction of seeing that he’d won. Akira’s hand travels still lower, cupping Akechi’s aching balls as the latter struggles not to moan with pleasure.

He gently rubs at his neglected balls a few times, and it feels so _good_ that Akechi can’t help but moan and toss his head back when Akira pulls his hand back out, and tugs lightly at the waistband of his underwear.

“Look at you. The famous _Akechi-kun_, a slut at the hands of the leader of the Phantom Thieves.”

Akechi doesn’t even bother replying, instead lifting his hips slightly to help Akira pull his boxers off completely.

With a smirk, Akira inches his underwear off himself, his own erection finally free of its confines. Akechi feels himself blush to the roots of his hair, remembering how many times he got himself off to imagining it inside of him in those quiet nights after raiding Niijama’s Palace.

Akira leans over him slightly to pull a tube of lube from the nightstand drawer, coating his fingers in it. He presses a single finger against Akechi’s hole, enjoying watching him squirm against it, before letting it slide inside. He adds another finger soon after, scissoring his fingers to stretch him. Akechi is now very pointedly not making eye contact with him, his eyes focused on a spot somewhere behind his head, biting his lip to try and stop the soft sounds of approval he makes.

He adds a third finger, and it seems to get exponentially more difficult for Akechi to keep himself quiet as the digits just barely brush over that spot inside of him, sending waves of pleasure through his body. Finally, mercifully, Akira pulls his fingers free, once again fixing him with his storm grey gaze.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?”

The words are so crass, but Akechi can’t do anything but give him a curt nod. He feels Akira line his cock up against his loosened hole, before he pushes in, letting the head go in with a slight pop.

Akechi’s toes curl in the sheets as he screws his eyes shut, forcing himself to not look at Akira even for a second as he slides the rest of himself in. Akechi pushes his head back into the pillows, waiting for the sting to subside, praying for Joker to just _move_ and end his humiliation.

“Akechi.”

He firmly pretends not to hear him, keeping his eyes shut tight.

“Akechi,” Akira says again, softer this time. There’s a note of genuine affection in his voice, but Akechi doesn’t let himself believe it.

There’s a soft sigh, and Akechi thinks Akira’s finally going to get it over with. All of a sudden, he feels a cool hand touch his fevered cheek, and gently upturn his face.

“...Goro.”

The use of his first name finally prompts him to open his eyes, focusing on Joker’s neck.

“Kurusu,” he responds, his voice not even half as steady and confident as he would like.

“Goro, look at me.”

Though it feels like he’s about to gaze upon Medusa, Akechi forces his eyes to travel upwards, once again meeting Akira’s cool grey color.

Except this time, there’s a different look to him. Usually, Joker’s eyes are cunning and calculated; the color of polished steel. But the eyes that are holding his gaze captive now are soft, warm, and affectionate. There’s open, unguarded love in Joker’s — no, he thinks, _Akira’s_ — eyes, and he’s looking right at _him_.

“Akira...” Akechi starts, but his tongue feels like lead.

“You’re so beautiful,” Akira whispers, still holding himself steady, “You’re so beautiful and you don’t even realize it. I couldn’t take my eyes off you if I wanted to.”

Akechi feels his face flush even deeper crimson, but for the first time ever, it doesn’t feel like it matters.

“You’re beautiful and so, so intelligent. I...you mean the world to me, Goro, even if you don’t see it,” Akira’s voice is gentle and warm, so unlike the taunting tone he mocked Akechi with earlier. “You’re worth so much more love than you know.”

Akechi opens his mouth to say something, but he’s rendered absolutely speechless. The very last thing he expected was having sex with Akira, and having Akira _compliment_ him was beyond his wildest dreams. Maybe he really had died in Shido’s Palace.

Akira suddenly looks away, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“I—I mean...I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Um...yeah, sorry.”

Akechi lets the sheets go, wrapping his arms around Akira’s shoulders, pulling him into himself.

“Thank you,” is all he settles on, hoping that Akira understands. Judging by the smile he feels spread across Akira’s face against his shoulder, he understands perfectly.

Akira buries his face in the crook of his neck and finally begins to move, slowly at first, and then picking up speed. He pulls out almost all the way out each movement, before bottoming out in him, hitting his prostate with every thrust.

“Akira...I’m gonna...” Akechi manages between moans, holding him close as he gets pounded by the younger boy.

“Come for me...Goro...” Akira’s voice is low and rich in his ear, and that’s all he needs to come with a sharp cry, his cock trapped between the two of them. With a sharp grunt and an even sharper thrust, he feels Akira’s come fill him, hot and wet.

Neither of them move for a couple minutes, breathing heavily and still tangled together. At length, Akira finally pushes himself off of him, pulling out of his loose asshole, letting Akechi catch his breath.

Akira gets up almost immediately, and Akechi immediately feels a sharp pang of hurt before he turns to him and smiles.

“Don’t worry. I just want to clean us up.”

Akechi only manages a tired nod, a first for the usually talkative detective. He hears the sound of running water, and a couple minutes later Akira renters the room with a warm washcloth.

He feels the soft cloth brush against his stomach, wiping off his own come, with a touch gentler than anything he has ever seen Joker do.

But this isn’t Joker, he supposes; not really. This is Akira - a kind, sweet person who had been wrongfully accused and cast out by society but still believed he could change the world.

The same person who had just told Goro Akechi, the literal scum of the earth, that he was beautiful. He’s interrupted from his musings by Akira leaving the room, until he comes back a few minutes later, and he feels the bed dip with his weight.

Akira curls up against him, and Goro lays his head against Akira’s chest, the faint moonlight streaming into the room through the blinds.

For the first time in his life, he feels at peace.

“Goro? Are you okay?” His voice is soft and sleepy in the night air.

It’s comforting.

He shifts his head up to look at him. His grey eyes are warm and filled with love. He blushes, unused to being looked at with anything but hatred and spite.

“I think so.”

He feels Akira chuckle; a low, baritone sound that reverberates through his ribcage. He shifts slightly to pull Goro closer.

At length, Akira’s breathing evens out. Akechi stays awake just a little longer, listening to the other’s heartbeat.

His whole life was centered around revenge. That was all he lived for: to see the eventual demise of his father. His whole life was a façade built on lies.

What a fool he had been.

If he had succeeded in his plan, Shido would’ve gone down, taking Goro with him.

It was in his failure that he saw that there was so much more to live for. He hadn’t ever believed in second chances, but Akira had believed in him. _Akira _gave him a second chance.

It would be difficult. None of the other Phantom Thieves knew Akechi was even alive.

He couldn’t really continue his career as an ace detective.

But maybe he could continue his life as a Phantom Thief. A new life, with loyalty and love replacing hatred and deceit.

And for the first time, there was hope in Goro Akechi’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> ive been writing this for literal months bc i have zero self-control and started writing fire emblem fanfic instead. i just wanted to get this out before p5r comes out and ruins all my plans :(
> 
> this was supposed to be 2k-3k but instead it kinda..............got away from me. whoops
> 
> anyway. happy akeshu week!


End file.
